


the unmistakeable fire

by montecarlos



Category: Motorcycling RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mutants, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutant Powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25368493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlos/pseuds/montecarlos
Summary: Maverick’s dark brown eyes flicker over to the still-burning dandelion clasped between Fabio’s fingers before they settle back on him. “Most people can only control fire, not generate it themselves. You must be pretty special to do so,”
Relationships: Fabio Quartararo/Maverick Viñales
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	the unmistakeable fire

**Author's Note:**

> So I literally wrote this today because I am insane and I literally could not stop myself. I was listening to the X-Men soundtrack and this blossomed out of nowhere. I wanted to write a Fabio/Maverick fic after the result today, and it's quite light on the ship but I suppose I could develop it further if I need to. I had lots of fun picking out mutations for the lads, despite the fact they're barely used. Title is from Burning Heart by Survivor. Enjoy! :)

It’s been a few years since Fabio felt himself lose control. He’s trained himself to remain calm in most situations as any excessive emotion forces his power to manifest itself. He remembers the first time that it ever happened; he was eight years old and he was competing in the 50cc class somewhere in Spain. He doesn’t even remember the name of the boy who ended up winning the race, he only remembers that they had collided when Fabio was fighting for the win and after the race, the boy’s motorcycle had mysteriously burst into flames.  
  
They said it was an engine problem, or something to do with a faulty fuel line on the bike, but Fabio knows different. He remembers the sudden surge of rage that had flowed through his body, his fingertips tingling and becoming hot to the touch seconds before the bike had caught fire. His parents refuse to believe him, tell him that it was just a coincidence so that night, he lights his homework on fire and watches their faces drop at the sight. They send him to the doctors who confirm his abilities - it’s not a strange thing by any means, many people have mutations these days. Fabio’s best friend Tom has the ability to become invisible. But it’s different for Fabio. He can create fire out of nowhere, and control it. His abilities are clearly tied to his emotions, and for the remainder of his childhood, Fabio has to learn to control his emotions which in turn will help him to control his ability. There’s a few times that he lets his power take over, including the one time he sets his own motorcycling boots on fire trying to stop himself taking it out on anyone else.  
  
Things improve as he gets older. He learns how to live with his power, and as he does so, his success on the bike only grows. Fabio wins his first championship when he’s nine and the trophy is soon joined by another, and then another. The next time he loses control is when he’s in Moto3 and he hits the ground harder than expected during the second practise session, fracturing his ankle. Fabio sits at the side of the track, the tingling sensation prickling up through his fingertips -  
  
The grass clenched in his fist ignites beneath his gloves as he fights back control, pain ripping through him everytime he tries to fight his way to his feet.  
  
After that moment, Fabio vowed not to let it happen again. There were some people - both fans and non-mutant riders who deem him too dangerous to be working with motorcycles, but he ignores all of the jibes and negativity. He knows what he is capable of. He continues to work not only on his technique on the bike and becoming one with it, but also on his control. There are occasions when he allows himself to use his power, one such occasion is when he’s in his second year in Moto3. They’re at Silverstone, which has never been one of Fabio’s strongest tracks but he’s still disappointed to be out of the race five laps in, due to technical problems with his bike. He finds himself trackside, long after the MotoGP race has ended, plucking dandelions between his fingers. Fabio slowly watches as the grey feather like seedhead is engulfed by the flame, the fire slowly eating up the flower and leaving nothing behind.  
  
“Generating your own fire is pretty rare,” A voice cuts through the lull at the end of the race weekend and Fabio nearly drops the flower, spinning around to see Maverick Viñales staring at him.  
  
“W-what?”  
  
Maverick’s dark brown eyes flicker over to the still-burning dandelion clasped between Fabio’s fingers before they settle back on him. “Most people can only control fire, not generate it themselves. You must be pretty special to do so,”  
  
Fabio feels his cheeks turn pink before he drops the flower to the ground, igniting the flame with his boot. “I thought it was rude for someone who doesn’t have a mutation to comment on someone’s mutation,”  
  
Maverick raises an eyebrow. “Who says I don’t have a mutation?”  
  
Fabio opens his mouth and closes it again. Maverick makes an incredibly valid point - whilst there are many visible mutations, and those who choose to have their mutations on display, there are others who keep them hidden. “What is it? You have a tail and giant fangs or something?”  
  
“No, no,” Maverick chuckles. “I just don’t like to show it off, that’s all. Besides, you’ve got the likes of Jorge and Marc who have much _cooler_ powers than I do,”  
  
Fabio finds himself smiling at Maverick’s words. He is right, of course - Jorge is blessed with super speed and Marc can control metal, taking the whole concept of being at one with the bike to a new level. “So, you’re not going to tell me what power you have?”  
  
Maverick’s own smirk widens. “Isn’t it considered rude to ask someone what their mutation is?”

“I’m going to guess it’s something embarrassing,” Fabio fires back. “So why are you here and not celebrating with your crew?”  
  
Maverick worries his lip slowly. “I have been, but sometimes I like to just come trackside after a race and just go over what happened. Besides, Aleix has the ability to control electronics so he keeps switching off my music when I’m sat in the garage - I think there’s like a limit to how far away he can use his powers,”  
  
Fabio laughs before he glances back down at the burnt dandelion on the floor. “Sometimes I wish I had a power like that, not dangerous, just slightly annoying-” He pauses. “Joan, my teammate, he can teleport wherever he wants. He can just go to Bali without clicking his fingers, whereas I just destroy things-” He can feel the tingling again, the temperature around him slowly beginning to rise. “You should leave, last time I was like this - I ended up setting my own boots on fire-”  
  
But Maverick doesn’t leave. He steps closer to Fabio, his own hand curling around the younger man’s as though to calm him, his thumb slowly moving in circles over Fabio’s heated skin. Fabio is in such a heat-filled haze that it doesn’t register that Maverick is unaffected by the temperature of his skin. His hands are cold against Fabio’s own and his touch is gentle but firm. Fabio slowly begins to feel the rage dissipate from his body, his temperature slowly crawling back down once more to a normal level. He snatches his hand away as though it burns and mutters a quick thank you to Maverick before he turns on his heel and all but sprints away from the older Spaniard. It isn’t until much later that he realises that the spot where Maverick’s hand has touched his own is still cold to the touch.  
  
After his encounter with Maverick, Fabio bottles up his power altogether on race weekends. When he is at home, he occasionally allows himself to use it - to light his friend’s cigarettes when they have no lighter, to light the candles he uses around his mom’s house but during race weekends, his ability is locked away. However, as he moves into Moto2 for the first time, he’s constantly reminded of his ability. Joan has the ability to change the weather. Alex can mimic other people’s abilities. Franco has super strength. Luca, like his brother, can read minds. But it’s Isaac, Maverick’s cousin, who has the most unnerving ability to shift into anyone else’s body. Fabio remembers him doing it a few times at the rider after parties, shifting into Maverick who is standing by his side laughing, and he wonders if the older rider has a similar ability. He manages to control his ability throughout the remainder of his final Moto2 season, although there are a few near misses, particularly at Motegi when he’s stripped of his victory for tyre pressures. But Fabio manages to perfect the ability to bury his power deep down. He knows he has to as he prepares to finally take a seat in MotoGP.  
  
MotoGP is so much different than Fabio ever imagined. He’s dreamt of being here since he was young enough to ride a motorbike and now he’s one of them, sitting alongside the likes of Jorge and Valentino, riders who he practically worshipped as a kid. But there’s one downside - mutations are seen as somewhat of a commodity in the premier class. He’s seen it on a number of occasions - Jorge speeding down to the starting grid at the speed of light, a blur of orange and navy blue leathers, Valentino reading yet another rookie journalist’s mind in the press conference, Marc preparing for his race by slowly allowing a coin to drift between his fingers as though in concentration - but Fabio rebels against the norm. They all know of his ability, he’s always been seen as the fiery Frenchman, and his nickname El Diablo comes from his very ability - but he’s certain that Yamaha won’t be impressed if he starts setting things on fire in the garage, so he buries it again.  
  
He claims his first pole in the searing heat of Jerez, unperturbed by the conditions. However, he suffers heartbreak the following day. He can handle the ambient temperatures but his bike cannot and he can only watch as the Spanish contingent cheer on an all-Spanish top three. Fabio finds his attention on Maverick, the older rider’s grin wide and his dark eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses as Marc levitates the winner’s trophy above his head much to the delight of the fans. His thoughts once again turn to Maverick’s ability - he wonders if it’s something physical, something embarrassing - it can happen, Fabio knows of a few people who have scales across their skin or protruding horns. He glances back up at the podium. He doesn’t think Maverick has either horns or scales, he’s certain that he would have seen them.  
  
Marc takes the next two poles, and Fabio has to settle for starting P10 at his home race and he only claws back a couple of positions, but he tells himself that it’s not a bad first attempt. He pushes himself too far in Mugello, and he finds himself in a hospital in Barcelona. It’s recommended that he have arm pump surgery and he agrees, he knows that it’s easier to do so now when he’s in the beginning of his career than when he’s potentially got a championship resting on his participation. Since Marc took the pole and win at Fabio’s home race, it’s only fair that he should return the favour, and he does so. He takes the pole, but sadly not the win. Marc manages to get past him at the start and refuses to yield the position at all. He takes his third pole position at the next race in Assen, and this time it feels like it’s finally going to be his time. He can feel it in his bones. However, he is still struggling with the after-effects of his surgery, and his Yamaha wasn’t exactly on her best behaviour. Fabio has to settle for third, and there’s a slight tingle over his fingers as he pulls into parc ferme. He tries to busy himself by celebrating with his team, slowly pulling up the sleeve of his leathers, his wrist aching and sore, but the tingling remains. It’s like a knife dragging itself up and down Fabio’s arm, a need that needs to be fulfilled. He knows that his abilities want to burst forward, and he cannot allow it.  
  
“Congratulations,” Maverick’s voice cuts through the fog and Fabio finds himself pulled into a hug by the shorter Spaniard.  
  
“You too,” He bites out, slapping Maverick on the back before he returns to his team. The tingling sensation slowly leaves him, almost eking out as though the flame has become extinguished.  
  
It isn’t until he’s back in his motorhome later on, alone with his thoughts, that he realises what took the sensation away. It was _Maverick_.  
  
Fabio qualifies in second position at the Sachsenring. He can’t bring himself to ask Maverick about the previous race, so he keeps his distance and ignores the tingling that returns to the tips of his fingers and the remarks from the Honda team that it suddenly feels a little warmer. Fabio dares to believe that maybe he can overturn Marc’s exemplary record here. But all that hope is destroyed in only the first lap when he takes a little too much into the corner and ends up in the gravel. He sits there for a moment, dazed and confused, before the fury takes over. He barely acknowledges the stewards who rush over to collect his fallen bike, pushing their probing hands away as they try to check if he’s okay. He knows that his temperature is slowly climbing, even the air around him is becoming hot and he can’t let anyone touch him right now, they’d end up with third degree burns to their fingers if they did.  
  
They still send him to the clinica mobile for a check up, but even the most experienced doctor can’t get near him with the heat erupting from every pore. He’s told to go back to his motorhome, and he does so. He even refuses to let Tom in, not wanting to hurt his best friend. Tom gives him a hurt expression, but Fabio tries to ignore it - he knows that he’s past the point where even Tom can be around him safely, so he seals himself into his bedroom at his motorhome, trying to ignore the fact that it is slowly getting warmer and warmer. He can barely focus on anything else, apart from the prickling sensation that runs up and down his arms, the heat within him is fighting to make itself known as he blinks back white-hot tears of frustration. Fabio can sense when the race is over, there’s a sense of urgency that envelopes the entire paddock as teams either celebrate with their victors or sullenly begin the packing procedure ready for the next race. Pushing the pillow over his head, he tries to zone out the background noise of mechanics chattering and the sound of the crowd far in the distance cheering the victor.  
  
It seems like a few hours later, when he’s startled by a frantic knocking on the door. It’s now dark in his motorhome, the light from the circuit slowly filtering through the window. Figuring that it is Tom or someone else from the team who has called to check on him, he snaps back in French to leave him alone. However, the knocking continues and Fabio feels the prickling sensation return as the frustration begins to take over. He’s about to snap back again just to _fuck off and leave him alone_ when he hears the click of the lock. Panic floods his veins. He knows right now that the temperature inside the motorhome is unbearable, and that anyone who is in it right now has a real danger of being set on fire.  
  
“Fabio?” A familiar voice cuts through the dark and Fabio startles.  
  
It’s Maverick. He looks the same as always - his hair artfully mussed despite the helmet that has been over it and dressed in his team gear - but he’s barely reacting to the temperature.  
  
“How did you get in here?” Fabio snarls. “You need to leave right now-”  
  
Maverick shakes his head and moves forward, his hand stretching out to press against Fabio’s head before the younger rider can stop him. Fabio immediately wrenches it away, ready to see the third degree burns to Maverick’s skin - but there is none.  
  
Maverick ignores Fabio’s frantic scanning of his skin. “You’re burning up,”  
  
“Y-you’re not burnt,” Fabio whispers, still holding onto Maverick’s hand as though he’s expecting the burns to appear at any moment.  
  
“No,” Maverick’s voice is soft and calm. “But we need to get your temperature down,”  
  
“You can’t,” Fabio shakes his head. “It’s impossible, not unless you want to be set on fire-”  
  
“I’ve done it before,” Maverick says quietly. “I suppose now is a good time to show you my ability,”  
  
Fabio can only watch as Maverick’s hand slowly crystallises with ice. However, since it is entwined with Fabio’s own, the ice slowly disappears, the water dripping onto the carpet. Maverick worries his lip. “I don’t show off that often because people just either call me Elsa or want me to make ice sculptures-”  
  
Fabio chuckles at that, but the flare of heat threatens to bubble over. He closes his eyes, his other hand tightening into a fist - but then he feels a tug of cold ripple through his entire body. “Calm down, it’s okay,” Maverick’s voice fights through the heat, and before Fabio can say anything else, Maverick is curled up with him on his bed, the cool hits him in another burst and it’s a welcome relief from the constant heat.  
  
“Just let it all go, relax,” Maverick whispers against his skin as he sends another icy blast against Fabio’s sweaty skin, and Fabio does. He breathes out, his hands loosening from the fists he’s forced them into - but the fire and the heat doesn’t burst forward as he’s anticipating.  
  
“W-what?” He begins but Maverick shakes his head, his cool hands still sweeping over Fabio’s skin. “Why aren’t you on fire?”  
  
“Water can kill a fire,” Maverick remarks quietly. “And well, so can ice,”  
  
Fabio doesn’t reply. The uncontrollable curl of heat is beginning to wane at the sound of Maverick’s gentle voice and his ice-cold hands.  
  
He remains silent even after the touches begin to slow as his temperature drops to a lower level, listening to Maverick slowly talk about how he had felt the temperature around the paddock increase by a few degrees and that he had had to freeze the handle of Fabio’s motorhome just to be able to hold it and unlock it. Fabio slowly begins to feel himself drift, helped by Maverick’s voice and his ice touch against his skin, but his eyes wrench open as Maverick presses a gentle kiss to the back of his neck and pulls away.  
  
“Don’t go,” He murmurs out, his hand curling around Maverick’s.  
  
“But you’re fine now,” Maverick says, his cheeks slightly red.  
  
“I’d like you to stay, please,” Fabio feels his own face grow hot at his words. “If you want,”  
  
Maverick smiles softly. “Of course, I’ll stay,”  
  
They end up curled up together in Fabio’s bed facing one another, their hands slowly finding each other. Maverick’s smile grows wider as Fabio’s warm fingers tangle with his own.  
  
“Thank you for helping me,” Fabio says quietly, squeezing Maverick’s hand.  
  
“You’re welcome,”  
  
Fabio finds himself smiling back and leans in slowly to gently kiss Maverick’s lips. It’s a chaste kiss and it feels strange, but only because the older rider’s lips are like literal ice, but it’s nice enough. Fabio slowly pulls back with blush-stained cheeks, the heat curling in the bottom of his chest.  
  
“I’m sorry, I-”  
  
Maverick cuts him off with another kiss, this one with more heat, which Fabio accepts with relish.  
  
Once they pull apart again, this time more reluctantly, Fabio slowly strokes his fingers over Maverick’s face. “Oh, and Mack? For the record, I think that you’re a lot cooler than Elsa,”  
  
Maverick laughs, but his lips are once again caught by Fabio.


End file.
